Fallen
by MarySuOfYay
Summary: Blurr witnesses the fall of Cybertron. Unfortunately, he can't do anything about it. Oneshot. Songfic: Decemberists' 'Infanta'. Dark themes, hinted non-con.


Author notes: ..My brain demanded I write this, despite how little sense the lyrics are with what my brain showed me. But, eh, I figured, what the heck.

I like reviews. Even flames. Flames are enjoyed just as much as praise. So, SEND 'EM ALONG. FEED MY PSYCHE. WOOOO.

Oneshot. Definitely a oneshot. I honestly have no idea why my brain wanted me to write this.

The song used here is 'The Infanta' by the Decemberists.

**Fallen**

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_Here she comes in her palanquin_

_On the back of an elephant_

_On a bed made of linen and sequins and silk_

_All astride on her father's line_

_With the king and his concubines_

_And her nurse with her pitchers of liquors and milk_

_And we'll all come praise the infanta_

_And we'll all come praise the infanta_

If he had been asked how this entire situation came to pass, Blurr wouldn't have been able to say. The former Elite Guard had at first assumed he had offlined and somehow wound up in the Pit. Perhaps he had done some wrong he could not recollect; after all, he could recall dying quite clearly. Having your body crushed wasn't something easily forgotten. He had literally seen his own pulsing spark; his body had twisted to such an extent between those walls that he had physically seen his own spark with his own optics before everything went dark.

Eventually, he had woken up. In one piece, no less, not as a crushed distortion; this simply had to be the Pit. At least, Shockwave was there to make it all seem that way.

The speedster had quickly been outfitted with an inhibitor collar; it clamped down on his speed just enough to make escape practically impossible. From there, things only became worse as time went on as the great Decepticon warship headed right for Cybertron.

_Among five score pachyderm_

_Each canopied and passengered_

_Sit the duke and the duchess' luscious young girls_

_Within sight of the baroness_

_Seething spite for this lithe largess_

_By her side sits the baron_

_Her barrenness barbs her_

_And we'll all come praise the infanta_

_And we'll all come praise the infanta_

The rest of the Decepticons on board the vessel had stared whenever Shockwave decided to take him out of his private quarters; there had to be hundreds of bots there, armed and ready for battle solar cycles in advance. The reactions to the lithe blue mechs' presence had been a mix of interest, surprise and outright lust.

Only Starscream, flanked by his clones whenever Blurr saw him, appeared annoyed and disgusted. Before the seeker could ever say anything -- and it was obvious that the second in command sorely wanted to comment --, his female doppleganger would nudge his side harshly enough to distract him. Perhaps the jet became annoyed that his lack of spark prohibited behavior similar to Shockwave's. Nonetheless, even the clones knew better than to dare annoy Megatron's favorite soldier.

Within a week of everything going to the Pit, they had arrived on Cybertron.

_A phalanx on camelback_

_Thirty ranks on a forward tack_

_Followed close, their shiny bright standards a-waving_

_While behind, in their coach-and-fours,_

_Ride the wives of the king of Moors_

_And the veiled young virgin, the prince's betrothed_

_And we'll all come praise the infanta_

_And we'll all come praise the infanta_

The attack had been swift and brutal; the warship hadn't been alone in the surprise assault on their home planet. From what he had heard, multiple large cities had been attacked simultaneously; the Autobots hadn't had time to get their own forces together.

Shockwave's room had possessed a large window to peer out of; Blurr had wound up with a front row seat to the decimation of Iacon. He could only stare in horrified dismay, unable to do anything at all to stop the aggressors or help his own people.

Perhaps if he hadn't failed so abysmally in his duties, if he had only warned someone -- anyone -- else to the traitor, the Autobots would have had enough warning.

Before the day was done, Iacon lay in ruins. The Decepticons wasted no time claiming the city as their own; the Elite Guard headquarters had become their new home base. Despite the chaos and destruction, a bright melody still erupted from the speakers that remained; the last remnants of the Autobot celebration.

_And as she sits upon her place_

_Her innocence laid on her face_

_From all atop the parapets blow a multitude of coronets_

_Melodies rhapsodical and fair_

_And all our hearts afire_

_The sky ablaze with cannon fire_

_We all raise our voices to the air_

_To the air.._

What had once been his own private quarters had been claimed by Shockwave. Blurr had been certain the cyclopean Decepticon had done this intentionally; it was one of the smaller rooms in the complex. Likely, it had been claimed only to emphasize just how dismal his situation truly was.

Screams echoed both from outside and inside the large complex; officers and civilians alike fell under blaster fire or were captured for the same sort of servitude his own would-be master demanded.

Once, a couple of solar cycles after it all, he could have sworn he saw Blitzwing dragging a barely conscious Cliffjumper behind him.

_And above all this folderol_

_On a bed made of chaparral_

_She is laid, a coronal placed on her brow_

_And the babe, all in slumber dreams_

_Of a place filled with quiet streams_

_And the lake where her cradle was pulled from the water_

Blurr never learned what happened to the rest of Cybertron, or if any Autobots had survived or formed a resistance. He hadn't even learned what happened to Earth, although he suspected the worst when Shockwave brought in a bizarre blanket woven from stripped bark and leaves. His master had known that he had grown fond of the planet while he had been there; the dead organic life he was laid upon was mockery, plain and simple, and intended only to inflict further harm on his psyche.

As if he had needed any more reasons to hate Shockwave. As the stellar cycles went on, they only piled up.

After Shockwave was finished with him every night, a rare freedom was grasped; recharge, along with the dreams that came with it, was all he had left. Always, he dreamt of the happier moments from the life he had been torn away from.

Of course, recharge never lasted long; he would return to the Pit and the pain would always start again.

_And we'll all come praise the infanta_

_And we'll all come praise the infanta_


End file.
